A Mere Moment of Fragility
by SemperSomnium
Summary: Bee knew this day would come; he just hadn't expected it to be so soon. Character death, SAD fic. Hints at Sam x Bee SLASH. Please read and review! Now a TWO-SHOT.
1. A Mere Moment of Fragility

**Disclaimer: **I do not own anything associated with Transformers.

**A/N: **Hi! New story for ya'll. :) Sat down and wrote it all in one go, which is quite odd for me.

I have not seen any of the Transformers animated series, and while I have seen both movies, this fic does not contain any spoilers (I don't think).

This fic is sad; I have no idea where it came from. Come to think of it, a lot of my writing is sad lately... I wonder what's up with that?

Anyway, back on topic, I hope you enjoy my fic!

**Warnings:** This fic is SAD. It contains a CHARACTER DEATH, which is pretty obvious as soon as you read the first section. It also hints at SLASH of the Sam and Bumblebee variety. It's very low key, and could be taken as a brotherly/friendship bond if you so desire. It's meant to be slash though. :) If you do not like any of that, please push the back button now.

Thanks!

~o.0.o~

A Mere Moment of Fragility

~o.0.o~

It was a sunny day.

The sun was shining, the sky was clear and the sweet smell of spring was in the air.

Bee thought it all so terribly unfair.

It wasn't supposed to be a happy, sunny day. Sunny days were the days that he and Sam would go for a drive out in the country. These sorts of days were _theirs,_ theirs to do as they pleased. Theirs to spend together, revelling in each others' company.

But not this day. This day was supposed to be dark and stormy. The entire sky itself was supposed to be protesting the unfairness of it all. But it wasn't, and Bee felt like crying, if only he could.

Sam was dead. And there was nothing he could do to change it.

He had known that this day would come eventually; a humans' fragile, organic body was simply not made to last long. Just a few years; barely a moment to the Cybertronians. Then the bodies of flesh and bone broke down, and could no longer house the soul that they had supported for that fleeting moment.

Bee knew this; he had, if not accepted it, then at least acknowledged it, and thought that he could handle the inevitable with dignity – both his and Sam's – intact.

But he was supposed to have more _time._ Only a little more, but more all the same.

Sam was not supposed to be dead at the tender age of twenty-three.

~o.0.o~

It had started subtly; Sam feeling a little more tired, a little more unwell. Suffering a few more headaches than normal, and fainting a few times when previously he was just fine. He had tried to pass it off as the stress of University, and Bee had let him, for a while anyway.

How he hated himself for it.

When the headaches and dizzy spells escalated, Bee finally kidnapped him and took him to the doctors. Several tests and a couple of weeks later, Sam was officially diagnosed with cancer.

In the beginning, there was hope. A couple of operations in an attempt to remove the tumour, several rounds of chemotherapy, and Sam's future was looking bright.

It was during the chemotherapy that he and Sam had begun taking off whenever they could together. Sometimes it would only be for an hour or so before Sam began to tire, or they had an appointment they had to keep, and they would have to turn back. Other times they would stay out for hours, Bee driving to random destinations. Sometimes they would talk, other times not. They never mentioned the cancer.

It was only three months, fourteen days and six hours after Sam had officially been given the all clear when the tumour came back, and with a vengeance.

One week later, and the human doctors said that there was nothing more that they could do. Sam had mere months, weeks, to live.

~o.0.o~

Reactions to his imminent death were varied.

Ron and Judy, their psyches already fragile from stress, broke. Ron withdrew, rarely talking, always quiet. Judy cried. Randomly she would burst into tears, and the times in between was spent spouting meaningless chatter. They both became clingy, rarely letting Sam out of their sight.

Sam's friends, of whom Mikaela and Miles were part of, were devastated, of course. They tried to be supportive, tried to be strong. But they were only young, and didn't always succeed. They didn't know what to do.

It was from Bee that Sam sought solace.

~o.0.o~

Their drives became almost daily things, and, more often than not, they were spent in silence.

At first, Bee had tried to get Sam to talk, to let all of his emotions go.

Sam had snapped. He screamed and raged, and Bee did nothing but drive. It wasn't long before Sam cried, leaning despairingly into the wheel, and Bee felt helpless.

The rest of the ride was spent in silence, until the very end.

"It's not fair, Bee." Sam's voice was hoarse and barely more than a whisper as he stepped out of Bees' confines. He swayed as he got out, and clung so hard to the door that his knuckles turned white.

Judy was there then, ready to support him, and chiding, questioning as she went. Ron waited just inside the door for them, staring out. Both his and his wife's eyes were read and puffy, and their skin pale. They seemed to have aged years in only a few short weeks.

As Sam was led away, none of them looking back, Bee found Sam's words echoing around his mind, and settling somewhere deep inside his spark.

It's not fair.

Never, ever fair.

~o.0.o~

It was only five and a half weeks later (such a short, tragic, _second _of time) that he and Sam were driving silently along an abandoned road, neither saying anything. It didn't matter that nothing was said, or that their sorrow, fear, weighed heavily upon them both and thickened the air until it made it hard to breathe. There was peace in sharing emotions, yet saying nothing about them. Peace that was so rare these days.

So it surprised him when Sam started to talk.

"I'm scared, Bee."

His words echoed a little in the cabin, the sound so loud coming out of a silence.

"Sam?" Confusion, uncertainty. Fear.

"I'm scared," Sam repeated, then; "What will it be like Bee?" His voice was thin and weak. Small. _Fragile_.

There was no need for Bee to ask what he meant, no chance to say anything but the truth.

"I don't know Sam. I don't know."

Sam nodded his head, unsurprised, yet disappointed, and silence settled between them again.

It was true; for all that Bee had seen death, for all that he had dealt it, for all his age and intelligence compared to humans, he did not know what happened after death.

Before coming to Earth, the Autobots had thought that death was just that; an end. Once the optics had faded, and the Cybertronian had offlined, that was it. Their life had been lived and it had diffidently come to a close. No more words would be spoken, no more ideas thought of, no more actions undertaken. Their 'soul', to use a human term, ceased to exist. Gone.

But humans... they had their own theories and varied opinions on what lay after death. Bee, as well as the other Autobots, had found the ideas interesting and new.

But Bee was of the opinion that death was an end. It just wasn't a proven, set in stone, fact.

"Bee?" Sam's voice, so terribly _small._

"Yes, Sam?" Pain, sharp, burrowing deep into his spark.

"We'll see each other again, right?"

"...What do you mean, Sam?" Confusion, fear; so much _fear._

"In the next life. We'll see each other again, right?"

Silence descended as he thought about that one.

Reincarnation was a purely human belief, though Bee could see why some of the humans would believe in it. He could see why they _wanted _to; his own spark fluttered and ached at the thought; that this was not the end. That he would see Sam again.

But logic said that it wasn't possible. The same soul could not change bodies. If it _could_ be done, the soul would change anyway; outside influences would change it. He could not see how a soul could be reborn; let alone how two souls would find each other again, especially in a universe as large as theirs.

Bee was about to say this when he saw Sam; truly looked at him for the first time in a long while.

Sam's skin was pale and sallow, stretched over jutting bones and looking almost transparent. He ate little these days; nearly each and every bone could be seen. His hair was thin and scraggly, and he smelt strongly of sickness.

It had never been more obvious that he was dying.

Bee felt like crying then; like screaming at the universe in impotent pain and rage and fear. Only one thing stopped him.

Sam's eyes were brown and glowing as they stared at Bee's dashboard. Maybe they were a little too bright, a little too dry, but they were brown – such a beautiful brown – and they were so uniquely _Sam_.

And seeing him, seeing Sam, Bee found a lie (or was it the truth?) slipping into the silence using his voice.

"Of course, Sam. Nothing could keep me from you." Not even death.

And seeing Sam smile; seeing his entire face light up and the pain and fear _vanish, _Bee felt his own spark glow. Somehow, for that small moment, Bee almost believed his own words.

~o.0.o~

It was that same night when Sam went abruptly downhill.

He was rushed to hospital, but there was nothing anyone could do; just make him comfortable. The inevitable had come.

The Autobots rolled into the hospital car park barely an hour after Sam was admitted, and parked beside Bee. Prime was on one side of him, Ratchet on the other; offering comfort when Bee had no will to receive it. No one said anything, and Bee was glad for that small mercy. None of them left until the vigil was over.

The next day and a half saw everyone who knew Sam come to say goodbye; Mikaela came and then left, cradled by Miles, crying so violently that she could barely breathe. Mile's eyes were burning.

Will Lennox and his wife arrived and left within an hour. They were silent as they drove away.

Ron and Judy never left their sons' side.

It was one day, eleven hours and twenty-three minutes after he had been admitted that Sam Witwickey died.

Bumblebee, who had all of his scanners trained on that one room, on that one human boy, was the first to realise it. Sam's heart was beating one minute, weak and thready but undeniably _alive,_ and then it wasn't.

That was it. Sam was gone.

He would never smile or laugh or cry ever again. He would never speak or yell or whisper; Bee would never see his eyes - such a beautiful brown – ever again.

He would never again tell him that he loved him.

Suddenly, Bee felt so very empty and _alone_.

[_Bumblebee -_]Optimus' voice (sorrowful, _pitying_) sounded over the link that the Autobots shared, before Bee roughly forced the connection closed.

With a painful squeal of his tyres, Bee sped out of the car park, leaving the other Autobots _–_ and Sam, _Sam _(brown hair, tanned - _pale_ - skin, brown – _beautiful brown_ _–_ eyes)_ – _behind.

~o.0.o~

It was a sunny day.

The sun was shining, the sky was clear and the sweet smell of spring was in the air.

Bee thought it all so terribly unfair.

It wasn't supposed to be a happy, sunny day. Sunny days were the days that he and Sam would go for a drive out in the country. These sorts of days were _theirs,_ theirs to do as they pleased. Theirs to spend together, revelling in each others' company.

But not this day. This day was supposed to be dark and stormy. The entire sky itself was supposed to be protesting the unfairness of it all. But it wasn't, and Bee felt like crying, (screaming, raging), if only he could.

Sam was dead. And Bumblebee was alone.

~o.0.o~

Fin

~o.0.o~

**Authors Request:** Please, if you could take a moment to leave a review, I would very much appreciate it. I want to improve my writing, and the only way to do that is to get feedback. :)

Thank you!


	2. An Eternity of Inevitability

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Transformers.

**A/N: **Yeah, I hadn't meant to add another chapter onto this story, but the bunny bit and wouldn't let go. :)

This is Sam's version of events. It's a little longer than Bee's version, and written slightly differently. Please tell me if you like the new chapter, or felt it was better with one.

Thanks!

**Warnings:** This does have some swear words and death is a major theme. It's meant to be sad and does involve character-death.

~o.0.o~

An Eternity of Inevitability

~o.0.o~

Sam could feel death waiting.

It hovered just out of his range of sensing, but it was there none the less. It felt like a great black force, empty and endless and inevitable, but also peaceful.

Welcoming.

There was an endless silence in that nothingness, and though his arms and legs would be shaking and doused in a cold sweat if only his body had the strength to do either, there was also comfort in that silence.

Because silence meant Bumblebee, and Bumblebee was his comfort.

Sam could feel him; feel Bumblebee waiting outside the hospital. If anyone asked how he knew, he wouldn't be able to say. But Bumblebee was there, and Sam could feel him like he could once feel the suns' rays softly resting against his skin.

And just like he could feel Bees' presence, he could also feel his pain and –_oh, please, Primus, Sam, don't leave me!_ – his fear; such a thick, endless terror that Sam could only fathom because he felt the same.

Oh, how Bees' pain made his heart ache.

To leave him so soon...

He had known that he would have to eventually; he was not immortal after all, and the sad fact of the matter was that one day his body would break down and decay and finally cease to work. He was simply not made to last long.

But still, he was supposed to have more time. Time that would not, and could never be _enough,_ but more all the same.

He was supposed to have many more opportunities to laugh and to smile and to cry. He was supposed to be able to enjoy many more silences with Bumblebee, and then to break them by whispering three little words that he never failed to delight in hearing when they were echoed back.

He was not supposed to be dying at the fragile age of twenty-three.

~o.0.o~

Cancer was a bitch of a thing.

Dizzy spells, migraines and collapsing at random times were only the beginning; it didn't take long for the combined efforts of multiple operations and several _horrifying _rounds of chemotherapy to nearly convince him that he was ready to just give up and die.

It shamed him, to think of how close he had been to giving up. Of how close he had come to just saying _goodbye._

But persistence, and obstinate pigheadedness, paid off, and the news came that all that torture and effort had actually worked.

Following that, there was a euphoric period of almost violent relief. He and Bumblebee had celebrated in the best way possible, and the feelings of profound love and joy lasted the few months that they were permitted.

Three months; that's how long he had to _live_ – something that was suddenly oh-so precious after his recent brush with death.

Three months; and then the tumour was back.

After that everything started to move very fast.

A mountain load of tests were conducted; being poked and prodded was _not _Sam's idea of a good time. But still, throughout it all, he had been conscious of Bee waiting anxiously outside, alone in the hospital car park. His presence had warmed him in a way his parents' constant worry hadn't.

Then the news came; he was dying.

And there was nothing anyone could do.

Suddenly, he had become one of many; those that were forsaken because their death was foresee-ably near, and unstoppable.

He had never felt more alone.

~o.0.o~

That is not to say that his friends and family abandoned him.

No, they were there; worrying and fussing over him like through their care and concern alone they could somehow stall the inevitable. It was that – their pain and worry – that so alienated him.

His mum and dad –

They broke, for a lack of a better term. He had never seen them so drawn or tired or scared.

Knowing that he was the reason that they suddenly looked far older than they should; that the pain and fear was for him; knowing that there was nothing he could do to ease it –

It hurt like Hell.

Mikaela and Miles visited often, and he dreaded those visits the most.

Oh, don't get him wrong; he did appreciate the thought. But, truthfully, neither of them knew how to act around him, so their visits consisted of awkward babbling followed by tense silences, interspersed with repressed snivelling. It only served to remind him that he was dying.

Was it wrong of him that at times he felt angry at them, for being able to live when he could not?

...Yes, he supposed it was. But humans have never been the most logical of creatures, and he was of no exception.

So it fell to Bumblebee to offer the solace he so sought.

~o.0.o~

During the rounds of chemotherapy, he and Bee had started taking drives off into the country. It was a time out for Sam that offered a temporary relief from illness and medicine and overprotective parents.

So it was really only logical that the drives became almost daily things after the terminal diagnosis, as he sought relief again – this time from overprotective parents and friends and death. He felt surrounded by death at that time – like it was hovering over him, just waiting to snap him up and never let him go.

At first, Bumblebee had tried to do the good friend thing and get him to talk. Only thing was, he had had enough of questions and explanations and meaningless, endless chatter.

It was so easy to snap.

To scream and release all the hate and anger – _and fear _– that so corrupted his insides, and to strike out at the silent form of his friend that surrounded him. To then collapse upon himself to try and heal the gaping hole that was left behind with a seemingly endless flood of _sorrow_, and know that _it was okay_.

Because Bumblebee had him, and Sam knew that he wouldn't let go.

The rest of the ride was passed in silence.

As Bee rolled smoothly into his driveway, Sam considered what to say. He thought of 'sorry', but it seemed somehow ungrateful. 'Thank you', irrelevant. 'I love you', presumptuous.

In the end, he hadn't meant to say what he did, but it escaped his chapped lips anyway. He made no move to take it back; it conveyed everything.

"It's not fair, Bee."

He swayed as he got out, clinging frantically to his friends' door and trying to suppress a wince at how hoarse and _weak _his voice sounded.

His mum was there then, worried and questioning, and Sam was forcibly reminded of why he and Bee were driving in the first place. But he felt better; purged of all that was horrible in him. He was sure that it would be back, but for now, it was okay.

So he allowed his mother to lead him away, conscious of Bumblebee sitting silently at his back.

Yes.

For now, it was okay.

~o.0.o~

It was only five weeks later that he and Bumblebee were driving along an abandoned road.

Silence stretched between them, weighed heavy with their pain and fear. But it wasn't uncomfortable; pain and a fear were a constant these days, and sharing them with someone else without words was just a small slice of peace that Sam revelled in.

The choking feeling of death was worse that day; somehow more stifling, more ominous. Like it was closer.

So Sam blamed that when his mouth opened without conscious thought, and words came spilling out.

"I'm scared Bee."

Was that really his voice, echoing around the cabin?

There was a pause, before, "Sam?"

Bee was confused; Sam could hear it, along with the seemingly ever-present fear.

"I'm scared," Sam repeated, then on impulse added; "What will it be like Bee?"

That couldn't be his voice. His wasn't so small or weak or _fragile._

Mercifully, Bee didn't need to ask what he meant. He knew him well enough.

"I don't know Sam. I don't know."

Sam nodded his head woodenly.

What had he expected? Older and far more knowledgable than he the Autobots most certainly were, but they were not omniscient.

They did not know what happened after death; only the dead had that privilege.

Personally, Sam believed in reincarnation. Call it wishful thinking, but he couldn't bear the thought that his death would be _the end._ That nothingness was quickly approaching, inescapable and inevitable.

He couldn't bear the thought that he would never see Bumblebee again.

"Bee?"

He blamed the stupid cancer for his inability to hold his tongue.

"Yes, Sam?" Came the reply, calm and cool, yet somehow failing to hide the pain that echoed weakly through Bee's voice.

"We'll see each other again right?"

Desperation coloured the voice that was most definitely _not his_.

There was an endless pause, then; "What do you mean Sam?"

Stupid. Of course he was confused. He probably didn't even believe in an afterlife.

But Sam clarified all the same.

"In the next life. We'll see each other again, right?"

Anxiety raged as he waited for Bee's answer. Surely Bee agreed with him; surely he could see that death _could not _be the end? That Sam simply _must _meet him again? Surely that wasn't so hard to grasp?

And if his thoughts were slightly hysterical, well. Surely he was entitled to a little panic every now and again?

It was forever and an age later that an answer was finally decided upon. And when it was uttered, it slipped into the air between them like something new and wonderful and pure.

"Of course, Sam. Nothing could keep me from you."

Somehow, in face of that, Sam found all his pain and fear _vanish,_ and the constant shroud of death that hang over him retreat silently.

Of course he and Bumblebee would meet again. How could he ever have doubted?

~o.0.o~

It was that same night that death returned, and this time it wasn't taking no for an answer.

Five weeks; five pitifully short weeks was all he was allowed in the end.

Five weeks to live.

Five weeks to love Bumblebee.

Five weeks to be loved in return.

Five weeks.

Then it was over.

~o.0.o~

Sam could feel death waiting.

It hovered just out of his range of sensing, but it was there none the less. It felt like a great black force, empty and endless and inevitable, but also peaceful.

Welcoming.

There was an endless silence in that nothingness, and though his arms and legs would be shaking and doused in a cold sweat if only his body had the strength to do either, there was also comfort in that silence.

Because silence meant Bumblebee, and Bumblebee was his comfort.

Sam could feel him; feel Bumblebee waiting outside the hospital. If anyone asked how he knew, he wouldn't be able to say. But Bumblebee was there, and Sam could feel him like he could once feel the suns' rays softly resting against his skin.

And just like he could feel Bees' presence, he could also feel his pain and –_oh, please, Primus, Sam, don't leave me!_ – his fear; such a thick, endless terror that Sam could only fathom because he felt the same.

He felt like he was being pulled in two directions.

Bumblebee was there; waiting with him, impatient and lonely and heartbroken. And – _oh, God_ – it _killed _him, not to rush towards him and to cling and never let go.

His heart and mind were screaming for Bumblebee; aching to return to him, to see him one more time.

To whisper 'I love you' once again.

But his body was tired; exhausted. It had done its' best, fought for every day and hour and minute that he had lived waiting, waiting for _this one_.

And through it all, death watched. Patient like no other force, it waited for his mind to succumb, to follow the body that was yanking him towards _peace_.

And inevitably, he did.

He felt it as his body gave up, as his heart spluttered to an end and his lungs ceased to function.

"_Bee?"_

Vaguely, he was aware of a woman screaming, a man shouting – Mum? Dad? – but they were background noises.

"_Yes Sam?"_

Because he could hear Bumblebee's Spark breaking, accompanied by the vicious squeal of his tyres as he sped away.

"_We'll see each other again right?"_

As death threatened to consume him entirely, Sam couldn't help the hurt that flashed through him, even though he knew it to be unfair.

"_What do you mean, Sam?"_

Sam had left him first after all; Bee had every right to leave him behind.

"_In the next life. We'll see each other again, right?"_

Sam was surrounded by darkness then, but still, he could feel Bumblebee; like he could once feel the suns' rays softly resting against his skin.

"_Of course, Sam. Nothing could keep me from you."_

_Next time... Next time, I promise I won't leave you. Not first, not ever._

Then there was nothing but black nothingness and a final sense of inevitability.

Bee was gone, and Sam was alone.

~o.0.o~

Fin

~o.0.o~

**Authors Request: **You've all been wonderful with writing reviews and adding this fic to your favourite lists; I don't reply to every review, unfortunately, but I do realy appreciate the feedback you've given me. :)

If you could tell me what you think of this chapter and any mistakes I've made or areas I could improve on, then I would really, really appreciate it.

Thank you!


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